


to live forever or die in the attempt

by achilleees



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees/pseuds/achilleees
Summary: Zarkon’s younger son came for him after his battle.Shiro recognized him from the dais high above the arena. He sat there flanked by guards and his brother, wearing that faintly bored expression like he had better places to be.Shiro could relate to that.





	to live forever or die in the attempt

**Author's Note:**

> hey so this is SUPER au. more au than you’ll realize from the start. but basically yeah, playing with the common conceit of ‘what if keith was zarkon’s son and raised accordingly’ only fyi he’s full galra, not half. 
> 
> ALSO, WARNING: the boys aren’t nice to each other. they are emotionally and occasionally physically nasty to each other, so… be warned. shiro's in a bad place. keith has never known other ways to express himself. it's not good.
> 
> title from joseph heller's 'Catch-22,' for reasons.

Zarkon’s younger son came for him after his battle.

Shiro recognized him from the dais high above the arena. He sat there flanked by guards and his brother, wearing that faintly bored expression like he had better places to be.

Shiro could relate to that.

He was prettier up close - prettier than his brother, and prettier than Shiro had expected him to be. He must have taken after his mother, because he didn’t have his father’s square jaw or his beady eyes or that thin little smirk. No, his lips were lush and pouty, his eyes big and gold and thick-lashed, his jaw delicate and fine-boned.

Shiro didn’t bother dropping his gaze. He took his time looking the boy up and down, sprawled on his hard cot with his hands folded behind his head, the human one on top of the Galra-tech one to provide a little cushion.

“You’ll stand in the presence of your prince,” rasped one of the guards.

“He’s not my prince,” Shiro said lazily.

The guard started forward, but the boy just raised a hand. “Let him be,” he said. “If it gives him an illusion of control, what concern is it of yours?”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed, because the boy wasn’t wrong and it pissed him off. Shiro would take his small victories where he could claim them, but he knew damn well it was a futile, impotent attempt. Surface ripples on a fucking bottomless lake.

“Yeah, listen to the little cub,” he said. “Come to show off your fangs, kitty?” He grinned, showing his teeth.

The boy’s lip curled up, baring flashes of sharp canines.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Shiro yawned.

“Cute,” said the boy. He tilted his head, scrutinizing Shiro. “You’re dismissed,” he said to the guards.

They hesitated for only a moment before filing out.

Shiro started to sit up, attention piqued, before he forced himself back down. Never let them see you sweat. “Come to slum it, princeling? I hear that’s the new vogue for the rich and powerful.”

“Slumming it isn’t a _new_ vogue,” said the prince, which was true. “I’m almost tempted to have you call me by my name, since you seem so inclined to use a multitude of stupid nicknames.”

“My, how intimate,” Shiro drawled.

The prince snorted. “A quip for every situation, I see,” he said. “Tell me, is there anything of substance beneath the veneer of sarcasm?”

“Isn’t that what you came here to find out?” Shiro said.

The prince hesitated.

“That’s what I thought,” Shiro said.

The prince stepped into the room. He idly looked around, taking in the spare, utilitarian furnishings. “Don’t grow too accustomed,” he said. “You keep winning battles like the one you fought today and you’ll be moved to… more pleasant accommodations.”

“Don’t bother,” Shiro said. “A gilded cage is still a cage.”

The prince didn’t give any indication of hearing him. “My father’s council thought it was a fluke that you’d lasted this long,” he said, picking up Shiro’s water bottle and swirling the contents around. He looked over at Shiro. “They’re not saying that anymore.”

“Some men are born for battle,” Shiro said. “I know what they call me.”

“Champion,” said the prince.

Shiro inclined his head. “And what do they call you?”

“Keith,” said the prince.

“Hm,” Shiro said. “I prefer princeling.” He grinned. “Kitty-cat.” He dropped his voice to a purr. “Little cub.”

“Take off your clothes,” Keith said.

Shiro, after pausing for long enough for Keith to feel the sting of refusal, complied.

 

Keith made the most fucking delicious noises while Shiro fucked him into the unforgiving thin mattress of his cot. He dragged his fingernails feverishly over Shiro’s shoulders, leaving deeper wounds than anything that had come out of Shiro’s fight.

“Oh, fuck -” Keith gasped out, throwing his head back and showing the beautiful arched column of his neck. “Oh fu-uh-uck.” His breaths hitched, like Shiro was forcibly knocking them out of him with every thrust of his hips.

“Yeah, take it,” Shiro rasped out, slowing his rhythm to make Keith give a tortured whine. “You’re on your back for a slave - what does that make you, boy?”

Keith opened his mouth like he was going to answer, but a particularly deep roll of Shiro’s hips cut off his words before they could leave his lips. He locked his ankles behind Shiro’s back, cursing when he couldn’t force him to move faster.

“What do you - fucking - want?” he gasped, sweaty and flushed and the absolute farthest thing from intimidating. “Fuck you - just give it to me already, dammit!”

“You’re cute,” Shiro said, and shifted, pushing Keith’s legs up onto his shoulders, lifting him off the bed so his shoulders were the only point of contact.

Keith tried to roll down onto Shiro’s cock, but he couldn’t get the leverage for it, which only seemed to frustrate him more.

“Does your father know his son is such a slut?” Shiro asked conversationally. “I think he must, I can’t imagine you’ve hidden it from him for long. It drips off you, baby boy.”

“Fuck you,” Keith said again, eyes snapping open, burning gold. “You're such a - _oh_ , _shit_.” He groaned brokenly as Shiro rolled his hips just right.

“Yeah, pretty boy,” Shiro purred. “Just like that, doll.”

“Stop - calling me -” Keith said, but his words were weak and his breath was ragged.

“You wanted this,” Shiro said. “You came to me, remember that.”

Keith gripped his shoulder, hard enough to bleed. “I wanted the man I saw in the ring,” he hissed out. “I wanted the _Champion_.”

Shiro’s breath caught in his throat.

 

In one easy motion, Shiro manhandled Keith onto his hands and knees, jamming his knees between Keith’s and forcing his legs apart. “You asked me for this,” he said, and _slammed_ into him so hard Keith choked on a scream.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Keith said, hitched and broken, clawing at the sheets with both hands. Shiro wished he could see his face. In fact…

Shiro gripped Keith’s jaw and turned it towards him, forcing him to twist his neck to an uncomfortable angle. Keith’s expression was everything he dreamed of, a picture of exquisite agony, like he was dying and being reborn.

“You asked me,” Shiro growled, and fucked him like the demon he sometimes feared himself to be, deep and fast and brutally hard, fingers gripping his hip with bruising strength to hold him still. “You wanted me to fuck you like I fight.”

Keith’s eyes damn near rolled back into his head on Shiro’s next thrust, and he gave a choked noise, grasping clumsily for his cock.

“No,” Shiro snapped, slapping his hand away. “You’re gonna come on my cock, or you’re not gonna come at all. Get me?”

Keith nodded, too overcome to speak. He couldn’t hold himself up on his arms anymore, and buckled onto his elbows, his head dropping to hang between them. “Please,” he choked out. “Make me -”

“You’ll take what I give you,” Shiro said, but he curled both hands around Keith’s slender hips and fucked him until Keith was crying from it, whining continuously. “You’re going to come for me now, aren’t you, cub?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Keith cried out, and he clenched up deliciously as he came, spilling in long waves all over Shiro’s cot.

“God, yeah,” Shiro said, and another three thrusts later he found his release, coming so hard he damn near lost his mind from it.

“Oh,” Keith sighed, almost a purr. “Ohhh…”

 

“Hey,” Keith protested when Shiro flipped him back over and laid out on top of him, kissing him slow and languorous. He tried to move his head away. “Stop.”

“No,” Shiro said, and kept kissing him, curling his hand in Keith’s hair to hold him still when he struggled.

“Stop,” Keith said again, more of a command, regaining that imperious iron in his voice.

“No,” Shiro said again, both because he liked kissing and because he liked that Keith didn’t. He bit at Keith’s lower lip, then soothed the ache with a swipe of his tongue. “You came to me, you’ll take it.”

Keith glared. “I didn’t come here for this,” he said, still feebly trying to pull away.

“You sure about that?” Shiro said, and dug his thumbs into Keith’s jaw to force his mouth open so Shiro could sweep his tongue inside.

Keith gave a disgruntled noise that Shiro swallowed in his mouth. “I said stop,” he said, and bit at Shiro’s lower lip hard enough to bleed. “You will obey me.”

“I won’t,” Shiro said, amused but with an undercurrent of thrumming menace in his voice. He traced Keith’s lower lip with his thumb.

“You will,” Keith countered, and snapped his teeth at him.

Shiro smiled darkly and slapped him across the face, hard. “You may have forgotten where I spent my morning, Galra prince, but I did not. If you come to me begging for a fuck after I spend the day scrabbling for my life as a prisoner in your fighting pits, you will take what I fucking give you, and you’ll be fucking grateful for it. Hear me?” He grabbed Keith’s chin in two fingers and shook him.

Keith glared at him for another moment, but after a minute he dropped his gaze. “I hear you,” he muttered.

“Good boy,” Shiro said, kissing him again.

 

Keith allowed his ministrations for a few minutes, but he started squirming again soon enough. “I hate being sticky,” he said. “Let me up so I can wash.”

Shiro snorted. “Sure,” he said, rolling off. He stretched out on his side, watching.

Keith climbed off the bed and looked around. “How do you bathe?” he said, looking back at Shiro.

“And there’s the million-dollar question,” Shiro said. “The fineries of Galra hospitality.”

Keith stared at him.

“I’m only allowed to bathe after a fight,” Shiro said. “I assume they’d only let me eat before a fight as well, if it didn’t require so much protein to keep up this muscle mass.” He rolled onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head again. “There’s a faucet if you get desperate.”

Keith frowned.

“Oh, this is rich,” Shiro said, chuckling. “Is this the first time you’ve fucked a prisoner, princeling? Easier to accept the treatment of the lesser beings when you’re not forced to confront it?”

“What are you?” Keith said instead of answering.

“Human,” Shiro said. “You can’t tell?”

“I’m not sure I’ve seen one before,” Keith said. He sat on the edge of Shiro’s bed, eyeing him curiously. “I’ve always heard they can’t fight.”

“Most of them aren’t like me,” Shiro admitted. “I’m in the top 1%, especially since I got my shiny new arm.” He worked his jaw for a moment, contradicting his light tone about the subject. “Your average Galra could kill almost any human without breaking a sweat. But I’m not any human.”

“I see,” Keith said.

Shiro lifted a hand, gently tracing the pointed tip of Keith’s ear, smiling at the way it twitched. “You’re brave to come here alone. You know I could kill you.”

“Believe what you like,” Keith said. “I don’t think you’re out for revenge, though.”

“Oh?” Shiro said. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Because you’ve given up,” Keith said. “You don’t search for exits before the fight starts anymore. You’re resigned to the fact that you’re going to die here.”

Shiro frowned.

“I could tell the moment you lost hope,” Keith said. “Like a switch had been flipped. In that moment, you became the Champion.”

“Believe what you like,” Shiro said lowly.

 

Keith visited him again a few fights later, when he’d been moved to his new quarters.

Shiro was in a bad mood that day. Living in that little box of a room with nothing but a cot and a hole in the ground to shit in - it was hell, but it was honest, at least. These new rooms, with the massive bed and the empty bookshelf and the carpet on the floor… As if this made him any less of a prisoner. As if they cared about his comfort.

He paced, fidgety and uncomfortable, irritated by the bullshit of it all, these stupid decorations. Like they could buy him off, turn him into the docile pet they wanted him to be. He wanted to burn it all to the ground.

Showed how wrong Keith had been about him giving up.

As if summoned, he heard a dry cough from the door, and looked over. Keith’s skin matched his robes that day.

“You’re not one for luxury, are you?” Keith said.

“This isn’t luxury,” Shiro said.

Keith shrugged. “I brought you a present. Congratulations.” He offered Shiro a wrapped package.

Shiro scowled. “I don’t want it.”

Keith held it out insistently.

“Fuck off,” Shiro said, accepting it only to throw it to the floor. “Do you really think I can be tamed by gifts?”

Unruffled, Keith knelt to the floor and picked up the package. He ripped off the paper himself and held it out to Shiro.

Shiro’s breath caught.

Books.

 _Earth_ books, written in English by human authors. There were three - the _Iliad_ , _The Road_ , and (to his amusement) _Pride and Prejudice_. “Where did you get these?” he said, hushed.

“Scavenged from the contents of a boarded Earth vessel,” Keith said. “They’re worth nothing, you understand, so no one minds that I’ve taken them.” He paused. “What are they about?”

“This one is a war epic, one of the most famous tales of all time,” Shiro said, waving the _Iliad_. “It’s about a ten year siege undertaken to recover a stolen woman, and the heroes and gods who fight on either side of the conflict.”

He picked up _The Road_. “This is a post-Apocalyptic tale about a father and son traveling south to escape the threat of coming winter, and everything they have to do to survive. It’s dark. I’ve read it before.”

He laughed. “And this one is a romance about an Elizabethan-era woman and the wealthy socialite man who falls passionately in love with her.” He grinned. “Never read it, but I’ve heard good things.”

Keith made a face.

“Do Galra have books?” Shiro asked.

“Not… like this,” Keith said. “Not made-up.”

“Fiction, they’re called on Earth,” Shiro said.

Keith nodded. He picked up the _Iliad_ , flipping uncomprehendingly through it. “What’s the point?” he said.

“Why did you ask what they were about?” Shiro returned.

“I…”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “Like that.” He took the book from Keith and opened to the first page. “Rage - Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles, murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses, hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls, great fighters’ souls, but made their bodies carrion, feasts for the dogs and birds, and the will of Zeus was moving toward its end. Begin, Muse, when the two first broke and clashed, Agamemnon lord of men and brilliant Achilles.”

Keith sat on the end of Shiro’s bed, watching him with fixed focus, unblinking.

Shiro sat on the other side, leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out, and continued.

 

He closed the book after finishing the first chapter, his throat raw and worn. “Water,” he said, gesturing for the bottle.

Keith passed it to him.

Shiro took a drink. “You like it?” he said.

“What happens next?” Keith said.

Shiro groaned. “Can’t you just learn to read English? You’re a Galra, you’re supposed to be such quick learners. It’ll take like 20 hours for me to read this aloud.”

Keith blinked at him.

“Vargas,” Shiro amended. “20 vargas.”

“So?” Keith said.

“Bring me more books and I’ll keep reading to you,” Shiro said.

“I can do that,” Keith said. “Now strip.”

Rolling his eyes, Shiro acquiesced.

 

They brought him before Zarkon and a whole table of nobles after his next fight. Keith sat on Zarkon’s right, his face carefully blank.

“So this is him,” Zarkon said, sweeping his gaze up and down Shiro’s body. “The infamous Champion.”

“This is he,” Shiro corrected, because why the fuck not.

Keith closed his eyes, pained, but his brother looked faintly amused.

Zarkon did not. “Human,” he said. “Do you use your memories of Earth to inspire you during your fights, child? I believe you had companions on your ship when we took you – are there any remaining alive to fight in the arena?”

Shiro lost his amusement, rage curling in his chest. “No,” he said.

“No, what?” Zarkon said, smiling toothily.

“No, I’m the only one left,” Shiro said, quiet and controlled. “And no, I don’t need further inspiration for my fights when I envision it’s you who’s eating my blade every time.”

The various nobles stirred, panic flashed in Keith’s eyes, but both Zarkon and his elder son just smiled. Cocky fucks.

“Very cute,” Zarkon said. “Well, you’ve acquitted yourself admirably, and for that I think you deserve a reward.”

A reward. As if Shiro was fighting in his service, under his name… “Respectfully, your lordship, I disagree,” Shiro said, baring his teeth.

“Don’t be coy,” Zarkon said. “Bring him the medal.”

Shiro spotted the serving girl bringing a box towards him, and he struggled against his bonds, fighting to get away from her. He did not want that fucking medal anywhere near him. There was condescension, there was insult, and then there was whatever this bullshit was. “Shove it up your ass, your lordship,” he said.

The serving maid clearly didn’t want to approach him, as violently as he was wrestling against his bonds, but a sharp look from Zarkon prompted her forwards.

“Hold him,” Zarkon ordered lazily, and the guards clamped their hands on his shoulders, stilling his struggle.

Panting, Shiro swung his gaze up to Zarkon as the girl pinned the medal on his shirt. “I swear on all that is holy, you will die by my blade,” he said, locking eyes with him.

Zarkon chuckled. “Suddenly I have a new understanding of my son’s tastes,” he said. “You can take him away.”

Shiro snarled as they dragged him off. He chucked the medal in the garbage the first chance he got.

 

Keith looked disapproving when he showed up that night. “Do you want him to kill you?” he said. “Is that what you’re trying to bait him into doing?”

“You’re the one who thinks I’ve given up,” Shiro yawned, having worked off his rage in the gym. “Surely suicidal tendencies wouldn’t be that surprising.”

Keith sighed. “He’s going to throw everything he has at you now.”

“I wasn’t aware he was holding back before,” Shiro said, rolling onto his back and shifting on the mattress until he was comfortable. “I welcome the challenge.”

“You’re an idiot,” Keith said.

“Aw, shnookums, I didn’t know you cared,” Shiro said, making a kissy-face at him.

“Don’t be a cliché,” Keith said flatly.

“Seriously, chill,” Shiro said. He tucked his hands behind his head. “If I couldn’t defend myself, would I be worth anything to you?”

Keith considered this. “True,” he said. Shiro was well aware that his appeal to Keith ran dry the moment he lost in the arena – if he weren’t the best at what he did, then Keith wouldn’t want him.

“He can put me up against anything he wants in the arena,” Shiro said, “If I win, then he looks like an idiot. If I lose, then I’ll be dead anyway so IDGAF.”

Keith blinked at him.

Shiro grinned. Good to know some things couldn’t be translated by their real-time English-to-Galra implants. “IDGAF,” he said. “Look it up.”

“You’re annoying,” Keith said, and left.

That was going to drive him crazy for a very long time, Shiro thought smugly.

 

Shiro was putting down his weights in the gym when he sensed someone coming up at his back. He glanced over at the guards, who were watching closely with their shock batons at the ready.

He relaxed. Not a real threat, then. Just someone who wanted Shiro to believe he was one.

He turned. “Myzax,” he greeted. They’d never been pitted against each other, but Shiro was keeping a close eye on him just in case. Zarkon wasn’t an idiot, though, he knew that two rival competitors had more entertainment value than a gladiator and a corpse. “Don’t you look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning.”

Myzax scowled – it rankled him when someone else got the first word, either in a fight or a battle of words, which Shiro had known. “Zarkon’s little princess hasn’t gifted you your own gym in exchange for your cock yet?”

“He hasn’t,” Shiro agreed pleasantly.

“If I kill you, will I inherit all the perks of his favoritism?” Myzax pressed, clearly trying to coax out Shiro’s famous temper.

Stupid man. Shiro’s fury was hyperfocused on the men who had pushed them into this life; he didn’t have any to spare on his fellow victims in the pit. “Maybe, I don’t know,” Shiro said. “Probably. He’s got a power fetish, so yeah, chances are good.”

Myzax blinked.

“Look, let’s wrap this up quickly, alright?” Shiro said. “Are you really so thickheaded that you’re falling for their games?”

Myzax snarled. Seriously, he was a painfully stupid man. Shiro didn’t really have high hopes for this conversation to awaken any deeper insight in him.

“I’m trapped in this fucking shit the same as you are, don’t blame me for it,” Shiro said. “Focus your ire on the people who deserve it instead of getting jealous that my shackles are a little shinier than yours.”

“Rich of you to be saying that while you’re sharing the bed of their prince,” Myzax growled, which – wasn’t a bad point, annoyingly. “You’ve had him under your hands how many times now? What’s stopping you from… _squeezing_ a little?”

“His life isn’t worth sacrificing mine,” Shiro said. “When I get invited to share the emperor’s bed, then check back with me again.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like you’re living the same hell as the rest of us,” Myzax grumbled.

Shiro raised his Galra-tech hand, clenched in a glowing purple fist. “Do not – _do not_ – accuse me of buying in,” he growled. “I may be getting my cock wet more often than you are, but I am not one of them.”

Myzax appraised him, then nodded. He offered his hand to shake. “I’ll see you in the ring someday, Champion,” he said.

“I hope not,” Shiro said, accepting it.

 

Keith shifted in place. “I hate this room,” he said.

“You think you do?” Shiro said, but he was too exhausted from his fight and subsequent fuck to get riled up about it.

“You need windows,” Keith said.

“Wow, thanks, I hadn’t thought of that,” Shiro yawned.

Keith looked around, dissatisfied. Then he rolled off the bed. “Come,” he said.

Shiro sat up warily. “Where?”

“To my chambers,” Keith said. “I have a window seat that overlooks the city. You’ll like it.”

“And I’m just allowed to leave this room?” Shiro said sarcastically. “Do I have to ask the guards pretty please?”

“You’ll have to be collared,” Keith said.

Rage uncurled in his chest. Not too exhausted after all. “You think I’m going to wear your collar and lounge in your room like some pampered pet? You think I would _ever -_ ”

Keith nodded.

In a flash, Shiro lashed his Galra hand out, wrapping it around Keith’s neck. “I am not tamed,” he growled. “You’ll want to remember that.”

Keith blinked dispassionately at him, not intimidated in the least. “You are my pet,” he said. “The sooner you admit it, the happier you’ll be.”

Shiro growled, thinking of Myzax’s words, of how satisfying it would be to _squeeze_ a little and show Keith exactly how much of an obedient pet he was.

Then he relaxed his grip. This wasn’t the day he died, he decided.

Anyway, he wouldn’t mind having a window seat to read in.

 

The older prince came into Keith’s chambers one day.

Shiro was sprawled in the windowseat reading a book, his feet propped up on the wall, Keith’s cat curled on his chest and purring as he absently stroked it behind the ears. When the door swished open and the elder prince walked inside, Shiro’s instinctive response was to tense up – which was why he didn’t, just stayed in that relaxed position like he hadn’t taken any notice of the entrance.

“Lotor,” said Keith, also casually lounging on his bed, though Shiro could see that his ears had pulled back just slightly. “Can I help you?”

Lotor blinked languidly at him. “Father requests our presence.”

Keith rolled out of bed, pulling on his robes. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Lotor made no move to leave. He wanted to see what Shiro would do, Shiro realized, so he determined to do nothing until Keith commanded it. Those little rebellions, however minor, were what kept him sane.

Shiro flipped a page.

“What are you reading?” Lotor said.

Shiro glanced over, surprised but trying not to show it. Most nobles, Keith excluded, tended to treat him like an attractive light fixture. Worthy of a second glance, but not direct communication. “Catch-22,” he said after a moment.

“It was love at first sight,” Lotor said.

Shiro jerked, startling the cat into fleeing. He sat up. “You’ve read it,” he said, and then, “You can read English?”

Lotor shrugged. “Galran books ceased to interest me. I sought other venues of entertainment.”

“That means you have books,” Shiro said, lighting up. His bookshelf was filling up from the books Keith managed to procure for him, but he burned through them just as quickly.

Keith looked between them and frowned.

“Where do you think Keith is getting them from?” said Lotor.

“I never thought about it,” Shiro said. “Do you have more?”

“Lotor,” Keith said sharply. “Best not to keep Father waiting.”

Lotor nodded. “Shall we return the human to his room?”

Keith hesitated.

“Little cub knows how to keep me docile,” Shiro said. It wasn’t subtle – any threat to take away his access to books, and Shiro was a meek little lamb. “But if you’re worried about what I could do alone…” He shrugged.

“Let’s go,” Keith said.

Lotor smiled slightly, somehow both softer and shrewder than Keith’s. “Does he ever call you by your name?” he asked Keith.

“Let’s _go_ , Lotor,” Keith snapped.

“Very well,” Lotor said, and followed Keith out.

 

Shiro was summoned to Lotor’s chambers the next day.

He looked around, guarded and curious, when the guards nudged him inside. It was laid out similarly to Keith’s, but more artistically furnished. The entire back wall was a beautiful fresco of a garden in spring. Potted plants flanked the massive bed, and a sliding wall of light paper crossed by dark slats of wood separated off a seating area to the side.

Lotor sat on the other side of a low table in that little room, and he waved for Shiro to join him.

Warily, Shiro dropped to his knees.

“Tea?” Lotor said, offering him an empty porcelain cup.

Shiro shrugged.

Lotor poured him a cup. “My brother has taken a strong liking to you, it seems.”

“He seems to enjoy the challenge,” Shiro said. “Not many people talk back to him on a regular basis, I’d wager.”

Lotor nodded. “You aren’t wrong,” he mused aloud. “But still, he hasn’t gotten bored of you yet. How curious. He never had much of an attention span.”

Shiro shrugged again.

“Although I’d like to see his reaction if you lost in the arena,” Lotor said. “Whether it would dampen his interest in you.”

“I’d be dead if I lost in the arena,” Shiro said. “So that doesn’t show up high on my list of concerns.”

Lotor inclined his head. “Fair enough,” he said. “So have you always been this soft with him, or is this a recent development?”

Shiro bared his teeth. “You mistake control for softness,” he said, low with menace. “Just because I don’t go around flashing my fangs in some asinine dick-measuring contest doesn’t mean I’m tamed.”

Lotor chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was Galra blood in you.”

“Say that again,” Shiro said, quietly, “and see how soft I am.”

“I think I’m starting to understand,” Lotor said, watching Shiro with an expression of deep interest. “Wise of him, to keep you hidden away. Any one of our kind that takes the time to actually look at you is going to want you for their own.”

Shiro wondered, distantly, if Lotor was including himself among that number.

“I can’t pretend to understand the way the princeling thinks,” Shiro admitted. “But you know him better than I.”

“I do,” Lotor agreed. He tilted his head. “And here come his little cat feet now.”

Shiro turned his head just as Keith slammed open the door. “Lotor,” Keith growled.

“Tea?” Lotor offered.

“I don’t know what you’re after, but back off,” Keith said. “Shiro, come.”

Shiro frowned, hackles prickling at the tone of command. He took the time to drain his cup of tea, knowing that Keith understood the symbolism from the way his gold eyes darkened. Then he rose, insultingly slowly.

“I enjoyed our discussion,” Lotor said. “Perhaps we’ll have a chance to sit and chat again sometime soon.”

“Perhaps,” Shiro replied, and he might have said more but for the way Keith dragged him from the room with a clawed hand gripping his arm tight enough to draw blood.

 

Shiro was already irritated enough by the manhandling that Keith shoving him against the door and dragging him into a brutal kiss didn’t surprise him so much as annoy him. He growled against Keith’s lips, trying to pull away, but Keith wouldn’t let him.

If anything, Keith tightened his grip, claws now raising wounds on the back of Shiro’s neck.

Shiro tore away, licking his lips. They were bloody too, he found, nicked somewhere along the way by Keith’s canines. “Possessive,” he remarked.

“I don’t like to share,” Keith said.

“Shocker,” Shiro said. “Especially not with Lotor, I’m guessing.”

Keith’s eyes went wide and he flinched back, for no reason that Shiro could guess. Not until he replayed his sentence in his mind and realized he’d called Lotor by name. That was a mistake.

Sure enough, Keith’s eyes narrowed a moment later, and his voice was cool when he said, “Say my name.”

“No,” Shiro said.

Keith didn’t seem to know how to respond; he gaped for a moment before shoving closer, right in Shiro’s face. “It wasn’t a request. I command you to –”

“On Earth, calling a monarch by his name would be a sign of disrespect,” Shiro said, although Keith would have to be an idiot to buy that as an excuse. Whatever he thought of Keith, he knew the boy wasn’t an idiot.

“From anyone else, it would be,” Keith returned without missing a beat. “One last time, I will ask you nicely. Say. My. Name.”

“ _No_ ,” Shiro said.

Keith’s claws left bloody gashes when he struck Shiro across the face, angrier than Shiro had ever seen him. Keith so tried to stay composed, always striving for the effortless calm that Lotor embodied. Fruitless, Shiro had to think, faced by the fire that smoldered within Keith all along.

“I’ll take every book of yours and burn them while you watch,” Keith hissed. “I’ll start with the one you’re in the middle of now.”

Shiro inhaled slowly, and let it out even slower. His vision blurred. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he said softly, giving Keith one last out.

Keith hesitated for a moment – just long enough for Shiro’s hopes to rise. Then he said, “Say it,” and the tenuous hold on Shiro’s patience snapped.

Keith wasn’t the only one of them with a fire that burned inside.

“You really think you haven’t taken enough from me?” he said, shoving Keith so hard the boy went flying, barely managing to scramble upright before Shiro was on him again, throwing him against the wall and pressing in close so Keith felt every inch of their height difference.

“Do you really feel the need to strip me of the last thing I have?” Shiro said, his voice picking up in volume and force. “Your people killed my crew, took my freedom, took my _hand_ , and you don’t think it’s enough? Can you possibly imagine what that’s like?”

Keith opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You thought I lost it in a fight, I bet,” Shiro mocked. “You thought this weapon was a gift to make up for my loss.” He leaned in further, so close their lips were brushing. “Your witch-woman cut off my arm while I watched – I could feel everything – and grafted me into some fucked up Galra cyborg for her own twisted amusement. Every time I fight, every time I lift my fucking hand, I see all the parts of me your father has taken away and corrupted. Do you know what it’s like to lose yourself and be pieced back together as a tool of the person who did that to you?”

He punched the wall by Keith’s head so hard it cracked. “Your father made me hate myself. Of all his crimes, that’s the one that hurts the most.”

Keith paled, bleached white beneath the light purple of his skin.

“All I am is a Galra toy, molded and sculpted and manipulated for your entertainment,” Shiro said. “And now I’m a Galra sex slave too. I’m your pet – you know it, I know it. I sit pretty at your feet and I purr when you pet me and I fuck you when you ask me to. There is no part of me that I have left to be proud of. And now you want the last vestige of control I have over my life, you’re trying to take the only thing I have left, and let me just say, _Keith_ , I can’t even be surprised. You really are your father’s son.”

Keith flinched back.

“I’m giving you what you wanted, Keith,” Shiro said. “You’re welcome.”

“You can go,” Keith said, impressively evenly. “If you hate me so much, go.”

“I could never hate you more than you’ve made me hate myself,” Shiro said. He paused, not from regret, but because he wanted to land one last parting shot. Something that would really sting. “Oh, and just so we’re clear – My name isn’t really Shiro.”

His collar felt like it was strangling him. He couldn’t wait to be back in his chambers to tear the damn thing off.

 

Lotor came to his room a few days later.

Shiro had been itching for days, irritation mounting under his skin. He couldn’t wait for his next fight; it seemed to take forever to come.

He glanced over to find Lotor’s silhouette in the doorway. “Oh, you,” he said, turning back away.

“I saw my –” Lotor said.

Shiro just… couldn’t do it. Not this time. “You know, I think I hate you the most,” he said.

Lotor raised his eyebrows.

“More than Keith, more than your father,” Shiro said, that same acid filling his tone. He was brimming so full of it that it took little cause to spill over.

He crossed the room to his bookcase. “You’ve read these books. How can you read these books and see what they do and not _care_? How can you –” He grabbed an assortment of books and hurled them at Lotor’s feet – _The Handmaid’s Tale, The Giver, Candide, Brave New World, The Hunger Games._ “How can you have so much love for your brother and feel nothing when you see what they’ve done to me? How is that possible? I can forgive your father for being cruel, but you – I can’t –”

He buckled to his knees, clutching at his hair, struggling for breath; the air tasted thin and bitter.

“I can’t believe I’m still surprised at your kind’s lack of humanity,” he said finally. “You’d think I would have grasped it by now.”

When he looked up, Lotor was smiling.

“I might actually kill you,” Shiro said. “I don’t care what they do to me after.”

“What if I asked you to kill someone else first?” Lotor said.

Shiro, perplexed, rose to his feet.

 

The shouts were still echoing in the hallway behind him as Shiro bolted, propelling himself off the wall around corners to keep his momentum from flagging. He had his blade clamped in his teeth and his blaster in his human hand, but he knew damn well that his Galra hand was the best weapon available to him and he kept it free, glowing hot purple as he slashed through a metal door like a knife through butter.

“Hey!” someone shouted, and Shiro didn’t hesitate or break his stride, just slammed into him at full force and kept running.

Another four Galra guards got in his way and Shiro cut them down easily; they crumpled like paper under his Galra hand, and wasn’t that fucking ironic.

“Shiro!” Keith roared behind him, and Shiro spun barely in time to block Keith’s blade with his arm, sparks flying between them.

He didn’t have time to waste with this shit. “Are you coming or not?” Shiro hissed. “Don’t waste my fucking time, princeling.”

Keith’s eyes were huge and glowing gold and at any other time Shiro would have ruffled his hair and teased him, but he had to go and if Keith wanted to come with him, now was the time to say so.

“I want answers,” Keith said.

“Then keep up,” Shiro said, and he twisted and manhandled Keith into a chokehold, his glowing hand hovering inches from his throat. “Back off or I kill your prince.”

Keith didn’t struggle.

“I killed your emperor, do you think I won’t do it again?” Shiro snarled. “Weapons down.”

The Galra fighters paused as one, looking at each other then setting down their weapons.

Shiro dragged Keith backwards with him, reaching blindly to the control panel and opening the door of the ship. Then he shoved Keith inside, scrambled in after him, and pulled the hatch of the door shut. “Let’s move,” he said.

“I said answers,” Keith said.

“And I said, _move_ ,” Shiro said, swiping with his Galra-tech hand to activate the controls, but they were all in Galra and he had no idea how to work it. He blindly mashed at a few buttons, but nothing happened.

“Fucking hell,” Keith said, and he shoved Shiro aside. In a few seconds, he had the engines whirring, the retracted wings extending, the ship rolling forward – and they were moving, and they were airborne, and they were away.

Shiro collapsed back in his seat, breathing heavily.

 

Then Keith’s blade nudged at the tender skin under his chin. “I said, answers.”

“I killed your father, what other answers do you need?” Shiro said.

“I’m not stupid,” Keith said. “My father was dead before his body hit the ground and yet Lotor called for the guards to attend to him instead of chasing you. There are coordinates saved on this ship’s autopilot and you don’t even know how to turn the damn thing on. He put you up to this, don’t lie.”

Shiro rubbed his hand over his mouth. Keith was, irritatingly, not stupid. “Sounds like you have enough theories, what do you need me for?”

“Why did Lotor want my father dead?” Keith said. “Where is he sending you?”

“That, I don’t know,” Shiro said, frowning. “The autopilot coordinates is news to me.”

Keith pressed down harder; Shiro felt his skin break and a trickle of blood leaking out. “ _Speak_.”

“For power, I suppose, why does any prince assassinate his own father?” Shiro said, annoyed. “He was getting impatient and your father was still young enough that Lotor decided to do something about it.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

“Then why are you asking me?” Shiro said impatiently. “You know more about your brother than I do, you can come up with your own fucking answers. I didn’t really bother pressing for motives when your brother told me he wanted to use me to kill Zarkon.”

“You don’t follow any orders blindly,” Keith said. “You of all people would have asked.”

“There are some orders I question less than others,” Shiro said, narrowing his eyes back. “Murdering Zarkon is one of them.”

“ _I don’t believe you_ ,” Keith said, and he tossed his blade away and replaced it with his hand, pressing his thumb hard against Shiro’s windpipe, cutting off his air. “Tell me the truth.”

Shiro planted his foot against Keith’s chest and shoved, sending him sprawling. “We’re not in your fucking palace, I’m not wearing your fucking collar, and I don’t have to do a goddamn thing you say,” he growled, uncoiling and rising to his full height. “I’m not your pet anymore, Keith. Remember that.”

Keith looked away, setting his jaw mulishly. Then he spoke, his voice flat. “I apologize. But my brother just used you to kill my father, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to take away from that. Try to understand my perspective on this.”

Shiro took a deep breath, forcing away his instinctive irritation at being ordered around like a dog. He looked at Keith – really looked at him.

Keith was… scared, he realized. His father had been a foundation of his world, a rock, a mountain, a _planet_ around which he orbited. Whether he loved him was irrelevant, but Zarkon was always there, all-powerful and all-knowing.

But he did love Lotor, Shiro was sure, and now he was being forced to reconcile that the brother he adored had murdered the man who had sired him. It was a lot to take in, and Keith didn’t even know why Lotor had done it. What reason he had for dismantling the very ground Keith walked on - Keith and the rest of the Galra empire.

Shiro reached out and curled his hand around Keith’s jaw, forcing his face up. “You sure you want to know?”

Keith nodded without hesitation.

“Alright,” Shiro said, and he sat down, gesturing for Keith to take the copilot’s seat.

Keith sat warily, rotating his chair towards Shiro’s.

 

God, where to even begin. “Did you know that your brother is a pacifist?” Shiro said.

Keith blinked at him uncertainly.

“That he doesn’t believe in war,” Shiro clarified. Unsurprising, in retrospect, that the Galran language didn’t have a direct translation for that. “When Lotor was young, your father took him out for the first time to witness the conquering of a peaceful civilization – the Taujeerians, I think he said.”

Keith nodded.

“He was trying to impress upon Lotor the might and glory of the Galra empire, but it had the opposite effect,” Shiro said. “Lotor saw the suffering of those innocent people and decided then and there that he opposed what your father was doing. But he was a genius even then, and he knew better than to show any hint of his resistance to the Galra imperialist cause.”

Keith nodded again, not seeming surprised by this information.

“He bided his time for years, waiting for all the pieces to fall into place,” Shiro said. “I’m just one element of his plan. Lotor has been subtly digging to determine who he can trust and who he can’t, and he’s been strategizing for years about how to put his plans into action. I was just the right piece that fell into place at the right time to make it happen. _You_ helped him with that, unwittingly.”

Keith frowned a little.

“You let me off the leash too much, and Lotor took advantage of it,” Shiro said. “Too many people have seen me in your presence, relatively free to wander your palace, to doubt that I would have broken free of your loose grasp and murdered Zarkon as revenge for my imprisonment. They heard me threaten him when he gave me that stupid medal.”

“So people believe it’s my fault that my father is dead,” Keith said quietly. “I didn’t control you enough.”

Shiro shrugged, unrepentant. “You wanted to know,” he said.

Keith scowled.

“Anyway, no one suspects that Lotor had a hand in his death, and he’ll be embraced as the new emperor with no qualms,” Shiro said. “But he’s not going to tell everyone immediately that he’s reversing Zarkon’s policies. The Galra empire is too entrenched in expanding and controlling the galaxy to stand for that, they’d overthrow him if they suspected. Slowly, he’s going to replace all his generals with the nobles that he trusts, and slowly he’s going to halt the spread of the empire, and slowly he’s going to start bringing it back. By the time he’s done, it will have been so gradual your people won’t realize his plan until it’s too late.”

Keith looked out the front window, watching the stars wink bye.

“That’s Lotor’s plan,” Shiro said. “It took him a few weeks to decide I was the right pawn – he was worried I’d become too complacent about living as your lapdog – so that’s why he gave you those books in particular to pass along to me.”

Rebellion, justice, passion, humanity, contempt for the horrors of war, a will to survive under any conditions… Shiro only blamed himself for not recognizing the themes of Lotor’s gifts earlier.

“I don’t know where your brother is sending me, but I trust him, and I will willingly be his pawn,” Shiro said. “It’s up to you now to decide whether you feel the same.”

“Voltron,” Keith said quietly. “He’s sending you to Voltron.”

“To what now?” Shiro said, brow furrowed.

“Voltron, the legendary defender, historic enemy of the Galra empire. The lions of Voltron are awakening,” Keith said. “But they’re still missing two paladins.”

Shiro was going to have to get more answers out of him later regarding what the hell the _lions of Voltron_ were, but he had more pertinent questions at the moment. “And will you be one of them?”

Lotor he trusted, but Keith was still a wild card. He’d been spoonfed stories of Galra glory for too long, and Shiro had no idea how much he had swallowed the lessons – whether he had any of his brother’s mercy in him, or whether his veins ran with his father’s lust for power.

“Yes,” Keith said. “If these are my brother’s wishes, I’ll be his sword hand. He can’t join the battles himself, so I’ll do his fighting for him.”

“Alright,” Shiro said, and he curled his hand around Keith’s jaw and dragged him into a rough kiss. “I’ll be proud to fight alongside you, Keith.”

Keith grabbed his wrist and squeezed it hard.

 

“We can’t tell them, you know,” Shiro said later, idly toying with Keith’s hair while they caught their breath in the afterglow.

Keith turned his face up towards Shiro’s, questioning.

“The other paladins,” Shiro said. “We can’t tell them Lotor is on their side.”

“Why not?” Keith said.

“Because they won’t be able to fight the Galra convincingly if they know the truth,” Shiro said. “Lotor needs them to believe that they are waging a war against an enemy that’s trying to fight back. They can’t know.”

Keith hissed. “My brother deserves better than –”

“And he knows that,” Shiro said. “But Lotor cares little about his own reputation. All he wants is for peace to be restored in the galaxy.”

“Fuck,” Keith said. “The Galra are going to think he’s weak and incapable of holding onto my father’s empire, the resistance is going to think he’s some pathetic pampered prince – and all along, he’ll be supporting their side. It isn’t right.”

“I know,” Shiro said. “That’s why I’m warning you now. You’re going to keep this secret or risk shattering everything your brother is working so hard for.”

Keith bared his teeth.

“Whatever they say about him, you hold it together,” Shiro said seriously. “They have to believe that you hate him and oppose everything he stands for. When they talk shit about him, you have to agree.”

Keith _shook_ with the force of his fury.

“Don’t fuck this up, Keith,” Shiro said, grabbing his chin and forcing him to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“I won’t,” Keith said fiercely, “but I hate this.”

“I know you do,” Shiro said. “But someday, when Lotor shakes their hands over the truce negotiations, we’ll tell them the truth and they’ll know the whole story. Remember that.”

Keith let out a shuddering breath and nodded. He pressed his face into Shiro’s neck. “I hate this,” he said, brokenly.

“I know,” Shiro whispered, smoothing his hand in a steadying sweep down Keith’s back. “I know.”

 

“We’re only a varga away from the coordinates,” Shiro said, yawning and propping his feet on the control console. “You ready for this, princeling?”

The question was met with silence.

Shiro frowned. “Oi, kitty-cat,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“I _hate_ this,” Keith exploded from the back.

Shiro sighed.

“No, look,” Keith said, coming up to the front of the ship and chucking something at Shiro, so that only the speed of his reflexes kept him from having his eyes pierced by –

 _The Kite Runner_. Shiro had been halfway through it when…

“He packed my books,” he murmured, flipping unseeingly through it.

“All of them, they’re all there,” Keith said, eyes snapping with rage. “He’s gift-wrapping Voltron with two paladins to give them the power to defeat him and humiliate him publicly and he packed your fucking books in the process. He deserves so much better.”

“He deserves loyalty and faith from his weapons, and that’s what you and I are,” Shiro said evenly. “If you’re going to be his sword hand, you have to obey him implicitly, whether or not you like his orders.”

Keith snarled his rage, his pointed canines bared.

“I will fight for Lotor,” Shiro said. “Because he packed my books for me. The other paladins may not know who leads them, but _I_ do, Keith. If you need someone to honor your brother, then look at me.”

Keith’s breath gradually slowed to a normal pace. “Alright,” he said, rubbing both hands over his face. “Alright.”

“Good boy,” Shiro said, and he enveloped Keith in his arms, cradling him close, and Keith let him.

Shiro pressed a kiss to Keith’s hair, and together they watched through the front window as a huge white castle came into view.


End file.
